


I Didn't Choose You

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Sexist Language, Step-Sibling Incest, Telepathy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 07:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: After Sharon dies and leaves everything to Charles, Kurt decides the best plan is to have Cain seduce Charles. Cain doesn't like the plan very much but what else can he do? He doesn't expect it to change everything ... and nothing.





	I Didn't Choose You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gerec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Gerec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec) in the [xmenrarepairs17](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs17) collection. 



> So, I started writing this prompt back when you posted it, a year ago. And now, I have finally finished it, so I hope it's something that you'd still like to see, but no worries if it's not, I enjoyed writing it anyway!
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> After Charles' mother dies, Kurt hatches a plan to keep the Xavier fortune for himself, by marrying Charles to his son Cain. Can take place in any 'verse (modern, regency, etc.), powers or no powers, a/o or not. Totally onboard for everything from fully con to non con, underage or not. And you can have just one of the pairings above or both (and any others too as long as Cain and/or Kurt with Charles are the main focus)!

Cain fucking hated funerals.

He would have given anything not to come but Dad had said it wouldn't look right and you didn't disobey Dad, not about shit like this (not about anything really.) And it probably _would_ have looked pretty weird. After all, Sharon had been his stepmother and you were supposed to care about stepmothers, weren't you, even if they were evil in all the stories. 

Sharon hadn't been evil though, she'd just been … kind of there. Cain wasn't sure she'd noticed him very much but when she had, she'd been nice enough, in a drunk way. Probably why Dad had wanted her. He hadn't actually _liked_ her, not really. Cain didn't think Dad liked anybody very much. He didn't even think that Dad liked _him_ very much. If his own mother hadn't died, he'd probably still be living with her but she had died and so Dad hadn't really had a choice ad so they were stuck with each other. It was okay really, as long as he did things right. Played the game. Then they were fine.

In front of him, Charlie-boy made a small noise. He was crying, the fucking girl. It made Cain feel weird to see it. Men didn't cry, not even over their mothers – and if they really had to, they did it in private where nobody could see them. But Charles was crying here where people could see him, leaning into Raven, who was cuddling him. She wasn't crying, but then, why would she? She wasn't actually Sharon's kid. She didn't give a damn about the woman, she was just like Dad. She probably just wanted the money, like Dad did.

She was good at looking after Charlie-boy though. He seemed a little calmer with her arms around him, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder a little. It made Cain feel weird to look at them. He'd wondered more than once if they were fucking. They weren't really brother and sister after all and Raven was kind of hot. She had that slinky body and all that blonde hair and Cain had thought a few times that she'd be good to screw.

His stomach crunched. It didn't seem quite right to be thinking that at a funeral, even if it was only Sharon's.

He was glad when the damn thing was over. He'd have liked to run away then but he knew that he wasn't going to get to. No, there were people to bullshit at, a petty little wake to go to. All these people, pretending that they cared. Cain didn't think anybody really did. They hadn't liked Sharon, how could they have done? She hadn't done anything that particularly deserved to have her liked. She'd been a neglectful drunk and everyone had known it, hadn't they? So why were they pretending that they felt otherwise? It was all bullshit.

He skulked around the collection of people, hearing little bursts of conversations. People saying all the right polite stuff, saying that Charles looked so mature in the face of such grief, that at least he had his stepfamily. Cain wondered what they'd think if they knew that Kurt and Charles hadn't spoken to each other once since they'd finished organising the funeral. They'd pretend to be shocked but would they be, really? Or would they think that actually made sense? Why would Kurt and Charlie-boy even care about each other? They didn't share blood. They had nothing in common.

People told lies all the time. Cain wasn't sure how many of them realised it though.

At least some of his own lies wouldn't be necessary any more. Now Sharon was dead, they'd get the money that Kurt had always talked about, get it properly. They could stop talking to Charlie-boy and Raven. It would be over. Cain could go wherever he wanted to once he had some of the money. Kurt had always promised him a share. It would be fine.

All gonna work out fine.

*

It was only a few days later that it all came crashing down.

Kurt stormed into Cain's room, face crimson and Cain automatically shrank down because he knew his dad in this mood and he didn't want to get hit again.

“That mealy-mouthed little _bitch_ ,” he snarled and Cain guessed he had to mean Sharon.

“Sharon?” he said and Dad gave him one of those horrible looks, like he was stupid and worthless. He hated that. Hadn't be always been a good son? Hadn't he always made sure he was strong and the way Dad wanted him to be? Why did Dad always act like he was worthless?

“She's tied all the fucking money up in that little shit!”

Cain stared at him, not exactly understanding. Dad had always said that there would be money. They'd had money, living here, money and a nice house. Yeah, they'd had to put up with stuff but they had money. And now they had access to all of it, didn't they?

“You gormless little turd,” Kurt said, voice filled with scorn. “She's left the house to Charles. When he's twenty one, he can throw us out and we only have the paltry little bit of money that she's allowed me, the bitch.”

Cain felt like everything was all tangled up and weird.

“Will we have to move out?”

“Of course we fucking will! You think that little brat will let us stay? You think he'll give us the time of fucking day?”

Cain shrugged awkwardly. He didn't know. Charlie-boy was a fucking mystery to him. No matter what Cain said or did, Charlie-boy kept being nice, kept smiling and patting his arm, like they were fucking _friends_. It was so fucking annoying, so fucking ridiculous and so fucking weird.

“We'll be thrown out the second he hits his birthday,” Kurt muttered, pacing up and down. “He probably won't even bother to be polite about it. He'll just tell us to get out. Everything I put up with, everything I fucking worked over and that little shit will fuck it all up.”

Cain said nothing. He never knew what to say about any of this stuff. It was awkward and shit and he just wanted Dad to stop it and go away. But Kurt wouldn't, not while he was in this mood. He'd pace around and rant and rave and maybe even hit Cain if Cain said anything that he thought was too stupid. Cain hunched his awkwardly large shoulders over and tried to look like he understood it all as Kurt ranted and snarled and hated everyone.

Eventually, Kurt gave up and stormed out of the room. Cain sat for a bit longer. Eventually, he went to find something he could punch. He always felt better when he was hitting something. Doing something. Okay, so they'd lose the house but Kurt had to have _some_ money, right? They'd get through it. They always did. 

Dad always thought of something.

*

Two days later, Kurt came into his room again and this time, his eyes were glittering with an almost savage glee. He'd thought of something then. He always thought of something. Cain relaxed.

“You'll have to seduce the little queer,” Kurt said and all feelings of calm vanished from Cain's mind.

“I'll have to _what?_ ”

“It's simple,” Kurt said, his voice all cold. “We need the house and the money. We need to get the brat to let us stay. So you go and you suck up to him and you get into bed with him and he'll give you anything because his kind always do when they fancy themselves in love. Then you'll get him to sign a fair share to you and me.”

“But … I can't seduce him. He's a _guy_.”

“So? You think I enjoyed lying with that drunk bitch? Of course fucking not but I did it. All you'll have to do is close your eyes and pretend it's a girl sucking your cock.”

Cain felt slightly sick. He shook his head.

“I can't do that. I can't!”

“You fucking can and you fucking will,” his father said with that awful finality that he had. “Unless you want to fucking pay.”

“But … but I don't even know … I don't know how to!”

“Find a way,” his father said. “You need to be in his bed before his birthday. Get on with it and if you fuck it up, I will throw you out too and you'll have nothing.”

He walked out and Cain stared helplessly after him, his stomach squirming horribly. His father meant it. He knew his father meant it. Father never said things like this when he didn't mean them.. He expected Cain to play the pansy, to _fuck_ Charles Xavier to keep the house and money that father felt that they deserved.

How could he? He wasn't a queer. He wasn't interested in men. He liked girls, pretty girls with big tits. Men fucking other men was sick and wrong and _gross_. Would he have to let Xavier do that to him? No, he'd rather fucking die than let anyone shove their cock in his arse. Father had gone mad, he had to have done. This was crazy.

But father meant it. Cain knew he did. And if he didn't do it, he'd be cut off. No money, no home, no father. And he wasn't clever, he wasn't brave, he wasn't anything special. Xavier could afford to be thrown out with all his stupid brains, all the things he could do. He wouldn't be on his own. He wouldn't be lost.

What the fuck was Cain supposed to do?

And Charlie-boy didn't even like him. Oh, he was pathetically _kind_ , the way he always was but there was no way that he _liked_ Cain. And Cain didn't like him. Cain _hated_ him.

What the fuck was he going to fucking do?

*

His first opportunity to talk to Charles came quicker than expected.

He was heading down to the kitchen for a snack when he heard a muffled sort of noise and went to take a look. Charles was sitting on the sofa, head in his hands, probably crying again. Cain’s instinct was to call him a baby, he was even opening his mouth to do it – then he remembered what his Dad had said.

His stomach squirmed. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything like that, it was gross and wrong. But Dad would be mad if he didn’t at least look like he was helping and ... and he could say something nice to Charles, right? He could do that, that’d be okay ...

“What’s up?”

Charles jumped and turned to look at him, face all damp. Cain tried to rearrange his face into a look that was nice, although he wasn’t sure he could do it. He didn’t know how you did shit like this. But Charlie-boy was bloody stupid and he smiled back, a wobbly sort of smile.

“I’m ... I’m sorry, I ... I just miss mother.”

Oh, right. Yeah. That. Did he _really_ miss Sharon _that_ much? As far as Cain could tell, Sharon and Charles had hardly spent any time together. They certainly had nothing in common. Charles was all smart and brainy and talked like it, Sharon had been all quiet and didn’t seem that bright. Cain found it all sort weird.

Still. He got it, kinda. He could work with that.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I ...I know what you mean. I miss my mom too sometimes.”

Charles blinked at him with long, damp eyelashes. It was weird, seeing him all sad and shaky like this. He always looked so cold and in control. It made Cain feel funny. He stepped into the room, moving a bit closer.

“You ... I sometimes ... don’t think about your mother,” Charles said in a low voice. “You miss her?”

“I do,” Cain said because it was true. He could talk about that. “I mean ... s’not the same, she died when I was a kid. But I miss her.”

“Tell me about her?”

Fuck. He didn’t want to talk about Mom with Charlie-boy. But Charles was looking at him with big eyes and Dad wanted them to talk and it was an easy way to get close, right? He didn’t have to get all mushy, they could just ... talk.

“I don’t remember her that well,” he said gruffly. “She had ... she had blonde hair, like your Mom, only it was longer and she used to leave it loose and it was all ... fluffy, I guess. She was pretty big, you know? I think she was taller than Dad and she was ... wide.”

“Kind of like you?” Charles asked with a gentle smile. Cain shrugged. He guessed he was pretty well built. Dad had never said that he looked like Mom but maybe he did?

“Yeah, maybe,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you ... do you wish you could just talk to her again?”

Did he? He didn’t remember talking to Mom much. He wasn’t really a talker. But sometimes ... sometimes he thought she’d understand stuff better than Dad did. That if she’d still been here, things wouldn’t have got so fucked up.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Charles looked at the floor.

“I keep thinking ... of things I want to say. Only she’s not here. And I can’t. And it ... it hurts.”

Cain sort of got that. When Mom had first died, he remembered asking people where she was. Why everything was suddenly so ... different. Dad had just yelled at him, told him that she was dead and he needed to get over it so he’d shoved it away, like he did with most stuff that made him feel bad.

“Yeah,” he said because it seemed right to say something and then he leaned over and patted Charles on the shoulder because people liked that, right? Charles blinked, then smiled.

“Thanks, Cain.”

“Yeah, well,” Cain said, shrugging because now he felt embarrassed and stupid about the whole thing. “It’s just ... how it goes, right?”

“Still, it means a lot to me,” Charles said. “I haven’t ... Raven doesn’t really understand and ... I think I just needed to talk.”

“Well, I guess you can talk to me about that. If you want.”

Charles looked at him, blinking slightly. Cain shrugged and looked away. He felt dumb. This whole thing was dumb and weird and his Dad had to be fucking crazy if he thought that this was ever gonna work anyway, even if Cain _could_ seduce Charles, which he couldn’t because Charles was a fucking _guy_.

“Thank you,” Charles said softly. His fingers drifted up to press against the side of his head in a way that he often did when he was talking. Cain found it really fucking annoying. Charles often did it before he said one of those really smug things, like he knew everything.

This time though, Charles didn't say anything. He just blinked at Cain and then looked weird, like he was worried about something.

“I'm gonna go to bed,” Cain said, feeling awkward. “Guess I'll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yes,” Charles said. “I guess you will.”

He sounded funny too but Cain didn't think he could do this any more. He headed quickly out of the room, wondering if Dad would be pleased. He'd made a start, right? He'd done something good.

*

The next day, Charles smiled at him at breakfast. Cain guessed that was a good thing. It was different anyway and that meant that he'd managed to change things a bit. Raven scowled, scowled quite hard actually. Well, she was a jealous little bitch, if Charles was looking at anybody else, she'd get sulky. And it meant that Dad noticed which meant that _he_ gave Cain an approving smile.

It was pretty rare really that Dad was pleased with him. It was nice. 

Maybe if he could keep thinking of that, he'd be able to do the gross bit.

He decided to try hard not to think about that. Right now, he was just making friends with Charlie-boy, right? He could do that. Okay, it was all a bit nauseating and soppy and bullshit like that but he could do that without it being upsetting. He'd be fine. Yeah. He could manage that.

So he made sure to keep smiling when Charlie-boy was about, hoping it meant he looked like he got that things were sad and that he was there. Charles seemed to get it – at least, he was smiling back whenever he saw it.

Two nights later, he knocked on Cain's door. 

“Want to come down to the study and talk?”

“Sure, “ Cain said and went with him. To his surprise, Charles had got them some beer to drink.

“Didn't think that you'd want that, goody-goody like you.”

“I've drunk before,” Charles said. “There's a lot you don't know about me, you know.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“No, definitely. There's a lot I don't know about you either. Maybe … I don't know … we could change that.”

Cain felt embarrassed. He wanted to tell Charles to stuff it, to shut up, to not be so sick. But he was supposed to be doing this. They were supposed to be making friends. They were supposed …

“Cain?” Charles sounded upset. “I'm sorry, I … maybe this was a bad idea but I wanted to … I'm just … like we said, I'm missing mother and I thought we could talk but … sorry. Didn't mean to be a nuisance.”

“No,” Cain said quickly. “S'okay, I don't … just not used to this stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” Charles said, smiling again. “Sorry. If you want to go at any point, you can. I'm just … let's have a drink?”

Drinking, Cain could do. He gulped at the beer. It didn't taste like the usual cheap stuff he drank so it was probably expensive, like everything else that Charlie-boy had. Still, it was quite nice to drink so he drank another and Charles sat next to him.

“I don't drink beer often. It's nice though. Can … would you mind if I talked a bit?”

“You talk a lot,” Cain said. “Go ahead.”

Charles talked in stops and starts. He talked about his mum mostly, about when he'd been little and she'd been less bad, apparently. It made Cain feel weird. He kept thinking about his own mum. He wondered what she would have thought if she could see him now. Would she agree with Dad? Would she think it was all a bad idea? He didn't think she'd care about money the way Dad did. She didn't remember her being so interested in it all anyway. Maybe she'd want him to be somewhere else.

“Cain? You okay?”

Charles was looking at him. He put a hand on Cain's arm and Cain looked at it, the way his fingers curled over Cain's muscles so gently. It was weird.

“Thinking about my mum,” he said with a small shrug. “Dunno. I don't think about her much. It's better not to, I guess. Doesn't hurt. You think too much and it hurts you all the time.”

“Maybe,” Charles said, looking thoughtful. “But sometimes it's better to hurt, don't you think? It's better to .. to have things be real. I don't like hurting but I'd rather feel something than nothing.”

“I don't feel nothing,” Cain snapped. “I feel lots of things. Just try not to think about the stuff that's not fun to think about, that's all. Whereas you gotta poke at it and nose at it and … all that. You shouldn't bother. Dunno why you do.”

“Because sometimes thinking about bad things can help you find a way to answer questions,” Charles said quietly. “And then you can make other things less bad. That's all.”

“Still dumb,” Cain said. “Better to think of nice things like drinking and girls and shit.”

“You often think about girls?” Charles asked, smiling.

“Who doesn't? Except maybe you. Weirdo.”

“I think about girls,” Charles said. “Not all the time but I do.”

“Oh yeah? Fucked any yet?”

Charles blushed in a kind of pretty way. Cain felt weird for thinking it but he tried not to push it back. He needed to think of Charles like that, right? He needed to notice that Charles was kind of pretty. He needed to get that in his head because, well … yeah.

“I've um … maybe done some things,” Charles said, leaning over and taking another bottle of beer. “Nice things. I don't know if I can … talk about.”

“Oh c'mon!” Cain said, shaking his head. “You're gonna tell me that you're one of those stick in the muds? Well, I guess I knew _that_ … ”

“I'm not really,” Charles said, looking even more embarrassed. “I mean … I just … people don't really want to hear about it, do they?”

“I dunno. Was it hot?”

Charles laughed, turning pinker.

“I thought so. But maybe not to everybody. She seemed to like it though … ”

Cain laughed too. Actually, he wasn't that surprised that Charles had likely boned a few chicks. Charlie-boy was pretty and charming enough. Girls dug that sort of shit. Not that he hadn't had his own share of admirers, hell no. He wasn't ugly and girls liked his muscles. And hell, some chicks kind of liked a silent guy. Xavier probably talked too much sometimes. Showed off.

“I'm going to go to bed,” Charles said suddenly. He stood up and put his hand on Cain's shoulder. It was surprisingly warm. “Thanks, Cain. You helped.”

Cain shrugged, then watched as Charles left the room. This was all so weird. So fucking _freaky_. Trying to make friends with him … trying to think about him like he was pretty …

He tried to think about that more. Charles's hair was okay, right? He didn't think about girls hair very much, it wasn't something he cared about but Charles's looked pretty soft. Like it would be all right to touch. And his eyes were … well, if you liked big blue eyes, they were good, right? And if you liked big red lips … and really, who didn't like big red lips that got all pretty? That would be … okay. Very okay. Like, if he were sucking Cain's cock with those lips … getting your cock sucked was getting your cock sucked, right? Even if it was a guy, even if it was Charles …

He was getting hard. Which was good, right? He reached down and started touching himself, trying to think of how good it would feel if he was getting sucked off. Didn’t need to think about anything else, just that, just the hot feeling of a mouth on him and maybe a bit of moaning and yeah, that’d be nice, good and wet and warm, and yeah, it was Charles doing it in his head but that was okay, that was okay because it was just a blow job and blow jobs were hot ...

He came quite suddenly and immediately felt kinda queasy. He’d managed to come thinking about Charles and that was just ... messed up in all sorts of fucking messed up ways. But he’d done it and that was fine and as long as he didn’t have to do it himself, well ...

Only how was he going to get Charles to do it anyway? How was he going to make Charles want him? Dad could go on about it all he wanted but it wasn’t exactly easy. Charles and he were still stepbrothers, still kinda related and even if Charles was sort of queer, why would Charles want him? They were only just getting to friends ...

But if he didn’t manage it, Dad would chuck him out. So he’d make it work.

He had to make it work.

*

The next day, Charles asked him to go to a movie.

“I’m sick of the house,” he said. “I’m going to go mad. Let’s just go out of a bit and be normal? A family?”

Cain bit back all the stuff about them _not_ being a family and nodded his head instead. Charles smiled at him, that weirdly big, warm smile of his and patted Cain’s arm.

“Good. I’ll buy the popcorn.”

“Popcorn’s for girls,” Cain said but Charles just grinned, like it was funny, not upsetting. Well, that was okay. If he didn’t mind some of the stuff Cain said, at least Cain wouldn’t have to tiptoe about so much. That’d be ... nice.

To his surprise, although Raven came with them, she promptly left them at the cinema, talking about wanting to do something else. Charles didn’t seem to mind. He just grinned at Cain and shrugged his shoulders.

“Just you and me.”

“Yeah,” Cain said, trying to think of a good response, something that would sound like right but also maybe make Charles think ... stuff. “Guess it’s a date.”

He felt fucking stupid for saying it but Charles just smiled at him and shrugged a little.

“I guess it is,” he said and Cain suddenly felt weirdly warm inside, like it wasn’t so bad to maybe be on a semi-date with Charles, like it would be okay ...

The feeling lasted the whole time they were there. The movie wasn’t bad and Charles had bought the food and drink so that was all right too. Even when they were going home and Raven asked about the movie and Charles started blathering on about how unlikely it was, that didn’t matter because it was just Charles and well, he did shit like that.

It sort of wore off once they were inside though and it bothered Cain that it had been there in the first place. It had been _weird_ , like being ... comforted in his head. Having someone make you feel better about shit only in his brain. Which was a creepy fucking idea and he didn’t like it. Whole thing was fucked up.

But it had been an okay day at least. He hadn’t minded that part. Okay, he and Charles were going to hang out more. If Charlie-boy stayed like this, well, it would be ... not so bad.

“We could go again some time,” he said to Charles and Charles smiled at him and nodded his head.

“It’s a date,” he said, very softly so nobody else would hear and Cain felt that weird feeling again. 

That night, he dreamed that he and Charles were in the cinema again, only Charles was cuddling up to him, sort of petting him all over. His hands were really warm and it was making Cain feel really warm too, kind of good everywhere and it seemed okay to kiss Charles so he did it and that made him feel warmer still, warm and good and Charles was kissing back, yeah ...

He woke up sticky and pretty freaked out. Could you _make_ yourself queer? Like, if you worked hard enough at it and shit, could you make it real? And could you make yourself normal again afterwards if you did?

Would Dad even let him? What if Charles didn’t want to stop whatever they were doing? Would he have to be around Charles forever? Okay, sometimes at the moment Charles wasn’t _that_ bad but ... it was messed up. He was dreaming about it and it was ... fucking messed up.

Sometimes, he kinda hated his Dad just as much as he hated everyone else.

*

Charles kissed him a week and a bit later.

He’d been asking Cain to meet him most nights, just sitting down in the study, drinking, sometimes talking. Cain had got kind of used to it as a thing now. It was all right, sitting with Charles now. Okay, sometimes Charles wanted to talk his usual amount of rubbish and that was boring but sometimes, he’d shut up and let Cain talk or just sit there. Sometimes, he’d start dozing off and Cain found that kind of sweet. He’d even carried Charles up to bed a few times, half-heartedly tucking him in. It was weird, so weird but it was something he could do and he knew Charles liked it and if Charles liked it, well, Dad looked pleased if he thought Cain and Charles were getting on okay.

Cain hadn’t dared tell Dad anything about what was happening. It made him feel gross to think about it like that. At least it didn’t feel quite so gross to be close to Charles ... weird but not actually gross.

They were drinking and Charles was leaning against Cain a little, his head practically on Cain’s shoulder. Cain had decided not to push him off – they were meant to be close after all. Besides, Charles was warm and it wasn’t too bad having him lean against him.

“You falling asleep?” he asked after a bit because Charles hadn’t said anything for a while.

“Not really,” Charles said but he sounded sleepy. “Possibly. You’re nice and warm.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Cain said and Charles made a noise that was probably a giggle. Cain turned to glare down at him only Charles had lifted himself up a bit so they ended up basically nose-to-nose. Cain stared at him, feeling weird and then suddenly, Charles leaned forward, just a bit and their mouths were together.

Cain felt a surprisingly pleasant tingle run down his spine. He leaned in a little to press a bit more firmly and Charles moved too, sort of settling against him, his mouth parting slightly and that felt good too, that felt weirdly good and so Cain responded to that too, kissing harder. He put one arm around Charles’s shoulders to keep him close and Charles’s arms slid up and wrapped around his neck, his mouth moving against Cain’s now, body pressing closer too. It felt good, it definitely felt good, almost as good as some of the dreams that he’d had and yeah, he liked this, he liked it a lot. He half-expected Charles to pull back, to say something dumb about how they shouldn’t do it but Charles didn’t. He just kept on kissing, his fingers coming up to comb through Cain’s hair lightly. Cain did the same thing back only his fingers got caught and he ended up pulling a bit and Charles made a really odd noise, like he _liked_ it and that _was_ weird but it was nice too and so he pulled again and Charles groaned.

“Cain,” he said and his voice was weirdly raspy. “Cain ... ”

“Shut up,” Cain ordered because if Charles spoke it would probably all get ruined and he’d remember how fucked up it all was and Cain didn’t want to remember that and he didn’t want Charles to remember it either. He kissed Charles’s rosy red mouth again and put a hand on Charles’s chest, enjoying the way Charles shivered against him. 

He kissed Charles harder and pushed him back against on the couch, wriggling a bit. Charles squirmed too, pushing a little.

“Cain, you’re too heavy, don’t squash me!”

He was grinning as he said it though and leaned up to nose at Cain’s neck as he spoke. Cain moved a bit because, well, Charles had a point but he didn’t move much. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do or how he wanted it to go but he felt like it was going to be good. Charles moaned and leaned up to kiss him again, arms around Cain’s neck, all soft and sweet and okay, yeah, he wanted this. He wanted it a lot.

He kissed Charles hard and ground their hips together. It was pretty weird, feeling Charles’s dick against his, even when they both had trousers on but fuck it, he was fucking horny now and he wanted to come. He grabbed one of Charles’s hands and pulled it down, pressing it against his crotch. Charles didn’t pull his hand away. He began to move it gently, rubbing his hand between Cain’s legs and fuck, that felt good, it felt really good even though his trousers only Charles wasn’t just going it through his trousers, he was undoing Cain’s flies and nuzzling him as he did, licking his neck. Freaky, freaky as fuck but ... but good, real good.

“Aren’t you big?” Charles whispered in his ear and it made him shiver. He thrust harder against Charles’s hand, gripping him tightly, feeling the way his skin felt and liking it. Charles was stroking him faster and harder and his vision felt like it was gonna go, it was, yeah, fuck, _yeah_.

He bit Charles’s shoulder to stop himself yelling as he came. He expected Charles to yelp or whimper but instead, Charles moaned, a moan like he _liked_ it and he lifted his hips against Cain’s thigh in a needy sort of way, so Cain closed his eyes and shoved his hand between Charles’s legs, rubbing at him roughly.

It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it might be. Maybe just cause he was warm and a bit sleepy from coming himself and a bit numb from the beer but it wasn’t so awful, getting Charles off. The way Charles responded was kind of hot too, all the wriggling and moaning and pressing up against Cain’s shoulder. He came hard, hanging onto Cain’s shoulders, making little noises and then he snuggled up to Cain like they were going to cuddle.

It suddenly hit Cain what they’d done, what had happened. He’d let another guy touch him. He’d touched another guy (okay, Charles had kept his pants on but he’d been able to feel it) He’d _kissed_ Charles, he didn’t even like Charles ... did he?

Charles stirred a little in his arms and looked up at him. He looked all sleepy and a little confused.

“Cain ... ”

“Shut up,” Cain ordered. “Just ... just shut the fuck up, all right?”

He made sure his pants were fastened up properly, then grabbed Charles and lifted him, carrying him roughly up the stairs. Charles leaned against him quietly, not trying to speak. When Cain dropped him on his bed, he sat up and looked at Cain with those heavy eyes but he still didn’t speak. Cain was glad. He didn’t want to talk. 

This was so freaky. So fucking freaky. What the fuck was he supposed to _do_ with this weird shit? It had happened, like Dad had wanted and it was _fucked up_.

He went and took a shower, trying to rub the feel of it off his skin. It wouldn’t get out of his mind though, wouldn’t _leave_ him. He’d let Charles touch him, he’d touched Charles and it had felt okay and it shouldn’t have done, it should have been disgusting and horrible and wrong because Charles was a _guy_.

What the fuck was happening to him? Why the fuck was it happening to him?

He went to bed, hiding under the sheets and half hoping it would all turn out to be some sort of fucking nightmare. Only it wouldn’t, of course. Cause this was all _real_ and it was so messed up.

*

He sort of expected Charles to come up to him in the morning and start saying stuff about it but Charles didn’t. He glanced at Cain at breakfast and blushed but that was all. It was enough though, enough for Dad to notice.

“You been doing your job well?” he muttered to Cain. “Good lad.”

He almost never said anything nice about Cain. Almost never told him he was doing all right. And now he was, he was pleased, he _pleased_ and ... that had to be worth it, right? He had to just ... get over it because Dad was _pleased_.

He went to find Charles then and saw him sitting outside with a book. Of course, because what else would Charlie-boy be doing? Raven was there too, poking him in the side, apparently trying to get him to do something or maybe just to cheer up.

“Buzz off brat, I want to talk to Charles.”

She scowled at him and Charles frowned too.

“There’s no need to be rude to her, Cain. If you do want to talk, just ask.”

“I _did_ just ask.”

Raven scowled at him, horribly. For a weird moment, Cain thought he saw her eyes change colour, turning a weird yellow. It was crazy creepy but he blinked and she was normal again and then stalking away, head held high.

“She’s our sister, Cain, do you have to be so mean?” Charles had that high-and-mighty voice on which never failed to get under Cain’s skin.

“ _Your_ sister. Fuck all to do with me. _Is_ she your sister? Dad always said there was something weird there.”

“She’s a sister to me,” Charles said quietly. “If you’ve come to yell about last night, let’s just take it as read and move on, shall we?”

He sounded sad now, which made Cain feel odd. He guessed it wasn’t weird that Charles thought he was going to yell but it still made him oddly uncomfortable. He sat down beside Charles and shrugged his shoulders.

“Not gonna yell,” he said. “Dunno what to say really.”

“I don’t either,” Charles said. “I didn’t ... mean it to happen.”

“Me neither,” Cain said, which he supposed was a lie but whatever. “I’m not ... like that.”

“No, I know.”

Cain didn’t know what to say. He was probably doing this all wrong. He was supposed to be making Charles want him more but he didn’t know how to do words like that. And he _wasn’t_ like that, he didn’t want to say he was, he didn’t want to make up all sorts of mushy shit but ... but he had to say something.

He must have groaned or something because Charles reached out and put a gentle hand on his arm. His finger were warm again and the touch made Cain tingle. What the fuck was that about?

“Cain,” Charles said. “I really like you.”

“Fuck off, Charlie, you can’t stand me.”

“Well, I’d have said before that you couldn’t stand me either and yet we’ve spent the past weeks getting pretty close, haven’t we? Can’t things change? Does everything have to stay the same and nothing ever get better?”

Cain didn’t know what to say to that. He kind of thought that nothing really _did_ get better but Charles sounded like he disagreed. Besides, he didn’t know. How the fuck could he know? He shrugged his shoulders.

“You really trying to say you like me, Charlie-boy?”

“Not always. But yes, I do rather. Can’t we be friends?”

“Friends don’t jack each other off on the sofa,” he said and felt a bit smug when Charles blushed really red. Although maybe that wasn’t so good ... after all, he was meant to be making things okay and that maybe wasn’t ...

“Well,” Charles said quietly. “We don’t have to talk about that ever again, if you don’t want.”

“Do _you_ want to?” he asked and Charles turned redder than ever and stared at the ground.

“I ... we’re stepbrothers. Like you said. It’s not right.”

“Oh, fuck’s _sake_ , Charlie-boy! Did I ask for a fucking morality lecture? No, I fucking didn’t, I asked what you _wanted_. So what do you fucking _want?_ ”

Charles looked at him again. He blinked, swallowed, then shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m ... Cain, I ... I’m so confused.”

Well, Cain couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy hearing that. Charlie-boy, not sure what to say ... kind of a novelty and kind of one that he enjoyed. He shrugged his own shoulders, then took a step nearer.

“Well, did you _like_ last night?”

“Yes,” Charles said softly. “Of … of course I did, it … it felt good.”

His cheeks were still red. Cain could feel his own cheeks heating up, which annoyed him. He didn't want anyone to think that he was feeling … well, anything about this. Luckily, Charles wasn't looking at him, he was staring at the ground.

“You … did you like it?”

Charles sounded a little pleading, as though it would upset him if the answer was no. Which it probably would. Charles had enjoyed it after all, he'd probably feel bad if he thought Cain hadn't. Which, well, Cain had. Kind of.

“Felt all right,” he said roughly because he didn't want to say anything more than that. It seemed to be enough though – Charles looked up at him and smiled, a big and hopeful smile.

“Well … that's all right then, isn't it?”

“I guess,” he said. “Yeah. I guess. Don't you go telling nobody though. Specially not that sister of yours.”

“I'm not going to tell anybody,” Charles said quietly.

“Good,” Cain said and then decided that he'd had enough of this conversation. He turned and walked quickly away. He'd done all right, hadn't he? He was still doing everything right and Dad would be proud and …

He found that he didn't like to think about it much more than that. 

Charles came to his room that night. He didn't suggest that Cain came to the study. Instead, he sat on Cain's bed until Cain came and sat next to him. Then Charles wrapped his arms around Cain's neck and kissed him, hot and heavy and Cain found that he was all right with that.

*

It quickly became easy, kissing Charles. After a bit, he didn't even really think about how it was a guy any more. It was just Charles and it was just kissing and it didn't feel at all freaky any more, even though Cain guessed that maybe it should. Charles would curl around him so comfortably, arms looped around him, nuzzling contentedly and it was … nice. He didn't mind it, being cuddled like this. He'd never really _been_ cuddled – not for a very long time anyway. Dad had said men didn't like that stuff and maybe he was right but … Cain kinda did. Charles was so _warm_ and soft …

Not always though.

It was getting easier to touch Charles too. Just something that he was used to, that he did a lot. Charles would always wriggle and make sounds, wonderful little sounds that made Cain's body throb. It wasn't right. It wasn't, he knew it and yet … it felt better and better. He liked being touched by Charles. He liked the way Charles leaned up to nuzzle him. He liked the noises that Charles made when he was being touched. It sounded so good when he did that, so very … good.

Dad cornered him one day when Cain was on his own.

“Well?!” he asked impatiently. “How is it going?”

“Fine,” Cain said awkwardly. “Fine, I … I guess.”

He didn't like to think that his Dad knew what he was doing with Charles. It was another thing that was just kind of gross. Did Dad _think_ about that at all? Cain desperately hoped that he didn't. It wasn't something he felt comfortable with. Not that he really felt comfortable with any of this but … yeah. Not that.

“You fucking him yet?”

“I … fuck, Dad, that's - ”

“For God's sake, get to it! Do you know what will happen if you delay it too long? The little bastard could throw us out the minute he gets old enough and you're worried about your fucking virtue?”

Cain wasn't absolutely sure what _virtue_ meant but he knew that Dad was mad at him, again. He knew that Dad wanted him to do stuff that he didn't want to do and it made him feel queasy inside.

“Dad … ”

“Get it fucking done!” Dad snapped and then walked away. Cain slumped down into a chair and put his head in his hands. Fucking fucking fuck …

They hadn't done more than kissing and touching so far. Cain was kind of scared by the idea of doing anything else. It would be so … so weird, so freaky. To fuck Charles, he'd had to … well. Sticking it in a girl, that was normal, sticking it in _Charles_ , in his … that would be dirty.

Charles didn't seem to agree. Well, it was hardly a surprise, Cain guessed, Charles was probably actually into this and Cain wasn't. Obviously. He just did what he had to and that meant doing stuff that might be a bit icky but it was fine. Yeah.

Only Dad wanted him to. Dad obviously really, really wanted that to happen and Cain was meant to do what Dad wanted and … fuck.

He felt shitty all the rest of the day and took it out on Raven, cause she was there. She got bitchy back which meant it was a pretty good shouting match in the end, until Charles interrupted. He told Cain that he was an animal and then walked Raven off, probably to give her a kiss and a cuddle. Cain decided he didn't give a fuck.

To his slight surprise, Charles came into his room a short while later. He was still frowning and he put his hands on his hips.

“Why were you being so awful to Raven? What’s the point of that?”

“I do what I fucking want, Charlie-boy. Not like she’s my sister, is it?”

“She _is_ your sister! You’ve lived together for years!”

“Doesn’t make her my fucking sister. Just like it doesn’t make you my proper brother.”

Charles flushed at that and Cain smirked.

“Guess you don’t mind me not being your proper brother though, right?”

“It’s not ... quite like that,” Charles said quietly.

“Yeah? Seems like it. I mean, unless you want to fuck her too.”

“I don't want to … it's not like that,” Charles said, voice quieter than ever. “Blood doesn't make family, that's all I'm saying. We're not … I mean … it's not that I don't think of you as my brother, Cain. It's just that we're more complicated than that.”

“Whatever,” Cain said. “Don't like complications.”

It was true too. He wished the world would just be easy. He hated having to think about all this stuff, muddle through this … _mess_ , trying to work it all out and just wishing that it was all sorted out and easy and normal.

Charles stepped close to him and put his arms around Cain's neck. There was something surprisingly reassuring about it and Cain found himself leaning into the hug a bit. Charles stroked the back of his neck and that felt nice too. It all felt kind of nice.

“It's all right,” Charles said. “Everything is going to be all right, Cain. Trust me. We're all okay.”

“I know that,” he growled because he didn't want Charles thinking that he cared about any of this rubbish. “You're the only one who's stupid enough to think it's not.”

Charles rolled his eyes gently but didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned up and kissed Cain warmly. Cain kissed back with a shiver – he couldn't help it. It felt good to be kissed like that, it just did, Charles knew what he was doing and he _liked_ being kissed. 

Did it all have to be so complicated?

He pulled Charles over to the bed cause it was easier when they were lying down. Charles came willingly, cuddling up to him when they lay down next to each other, hands moving everywhere. Cain had got used to that, didn't mind it any longer. Charles's hands were nice, very nice and he was doing stuff with them that he hadn't tried before that made Cain shudder.

“Don't … ” he muttered, though he wasn't sure he meant it or even what he wanted Charles not to do. Charles broke away from the kiss briefly to stare at him with dreamy eyes.

“Please? It's … I'd like to … I'll show you how?”

Like he didn't know how, he wanted to say. Like he didn't know exactly how to fuck, even if it was a guy nor a girl. Like Charles could show him anything very much.

But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and kissed Charles again and let Charles's hands go wherever they wanted. 

It felt good. More than good. Charles beneath him, making little sounds, arching up into him, arms wrapping around him, murmuring and gasping and panting. It wasn't dirty like Cain had expected, it was … nice. Really nice.

Charles cuddled him afterwards and Cain didn't try to shove him off. He let Charles tuck himself up under his chin and even stroked his back a bit.

“That was nice,” Charles murmured and Cain felt a flicker of warmth run through him.

“Yeah,” he said.

*

Charles came to his bed most nights after that.

Sometimes, they didn't actually fuck. They kept using hands or mouths and Cain find that he didn't mind that. Charles didn't either. He seemed to think that it was sex just as much as the fucking and Cain kind of thought he might be right. After all he did feel just as good after any of it. 

Dad seemed pleased. And yet … not pleased. In fact, he seemed to be trying to avoid Cain entirely. Cain had an awkward, unhappy feeling that Dad knew what he and Charles were doing and thought it was disgusting.

_But you told me to! You wanted me to! Why are you mad at me?!_

He didn't say any of that, of course. He wasn't _stupid_. You didn't question Dad when it came to stuff like that. You never questioned Dad. It was just that he wished that Dad was more _pleased_ with him about it all.

_Maybe he knows that I enjoy it ..._

Because he did enjoy it. He couldn't help it. What Charles did with his mouth and hands and body … that all felt good. Really good. The cuddling, the holding … that felt good too. It was nice to be close to someone. Nice to feel kind of … liked.

And if Dad knew that, if Dad ever even thought it, he'd probably think that … that Cain was bad and dirty and wrong. He'd hate him. Even though he'd made Cain do this in the first place.

The thoughts were so confusing. He didn't know what to do about any of them and he hated that. He liked to know what he was doing. He liked everything simple and solid, a journey from A to B and nothing complicated in between.

Charles was nothing but complicated.

They were lying next to each other. Cain was kinda playing with Charles's hair, enjoying the feel of it. Charles's hair was pretty soft and Charles always made little noises when you petted him. It made Cain feel easier about it, in a way. Like he was kind of in control.

“You know,” Charles said, sounding a little sleepy. “I got my letter from Oxford today.”

“Oxford?” Cain said blankly.

“Yeah. I've always planned to go to university there and … well, I got my acceptance letter, along with accommodation and things. I can go whenever I like, really.”

“Oh,” Cain said blankly. He guessed he'd known a little about Charles trying for university but it hadn't meant much. Who cared anyway? But he hadn't quite thought that it would be so soon … or that Charles would go away …

He didn't want Charles to go away.

“Yeah,” Charles said. “I mean … I don't know when, but soon, I think. It's not like there's … much here for me, except for Raven and … and you.”

“Don't be so gay,” he said automatically. Charles snorted, apparently deciding not to be bothered by the comment. He rolled over and looked at Cain, blinking those big blue eyes of his.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Charles repeated. “You’d like Oxford, I think. We could find you a job quite easily, something you’d enjoy. I’d support you until then, I’ll pay for the airfare everything. You don’t have to stay here.”

Cain stared at him. He didn't get it. He didn't get why Charles was saying this. It sounded crazy, it _was_ crazy.

“Can't leave Dad,” he said at last.

“Why not?” Charles asked, his voice quiet. “You think he wouldn't leave you if he thought he had some sort of opportunity?”

“Fuck off, he's my Dad!”

“Cain, face facts!” Charles said, sounding earnest now. “You know that he'd leave you! I'm not saying that he doesn't love you, of course I'm not but you know that he uses you whenever he feels like what he wants is more important.”

“No! Course he doesn't! Stop it! Stop saying that shit!”

“Cain, you know it's true. Listen to me, we can change this. Come with me and Raven. Give yourself a different life. You don't have to do what your father says. You can be your own man, live the way you want to, do things that you want to do.”

Cain didn't say anything. His head felt all mixed up. Go away with Charles? Go to England? It was fucking stupid, fucking crazy …

“I can't leave my Dad,” he said again, furious that he sounded a little pathetic, like a baby. “You don’t get it, he ... he cares about me. He _does_.”

“Cain … Cain, your father … I know what he made you do, Cain.”

“You what?” he said because Charles couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like he meant. 

Charles was sitting up now, staring at Cain with those big eyes of his. All earnest and concerned and understanding, like he knew anything, like he always understood things that he couldn't possibly understand …

“I know that this started because of your father, because he wants the money,” he said, his voice so fucking calm. “I understand that, Cain. I don't care about the money, he can have some of it, why would I ever care? But I do care about you and – ”

“You _care_ about me?” he interrupted because he couldn't cope, he couldn't listen to this any more. His stomach was churning and he kept going back to what Charles had said; that he knew, he _knew_ …

“Yes, of course I do! You know I do … don't you?”

“How do I know? You're the one who knows shit. How the fuck did you know about what Dad said, huh?”

Charles paused for a moment, looking uncertain. Somehow, it just made Cain madder. He knew how Charles had known it. He'd obviously listened at some point, worked it out and how fucking _dare_ he? How fucking _dare_ he pretend that he was fucking interested in Cain when he was lying all the time, how fucking dare he pretend he _cared_ …

“You fucking spying sneaky little shit!” he spat, then lashed out, punching Charles hard in the face. Charles cried out, bringing his arms up to protect himself. He wasn't actually that bad a fighter – they'd had a few tussles early on before Dad had told him that Sharon objected to her son getting punched – but he was lying on a bed now and not prepared and Cain was going to kill him, he was going to fucking kill him because liar, fucking lying bastard …

“You never fucking cared, did you, you fucking manipulative shit. You fucking … you fucking bastard! I fucking _hate_ you!”

“Stop it!”

Raven's voice. She must have heard him yelling and come in to see. She didn’t seem remotely bothered that they were both naked on the bed, didn’t even bat an eyelid. Instead, she dived on him, grabbing his arm with surprisingly strong hands. Cain twisted round, trying to get another punch in. She dodged him – just about. He caught her on the ear and she cried out in pain and her eyes - 

Her eyes went yellow.

Then her skin turned blue.

Her skin was scaly under his hand. Cain let her go at once, trying to move back, his stomach churning. What the hell was he staring at? What the fucking hell had _happened?_

“I'm sorry!” Raven gasped and she sounded the same. “I'm sorry, Charles! I couldn’t help it!”

“You're a monster,” Cain said. “You're a fucking _monster!_ ”

_Not a monster, Cain._

Charles's voice but not spoken out loud. When Cain turned to look, he saw that Charles's face was a mask of blood, bright blue eyes shining out through it all. His mouth was pressed tightly together but his voice could still be heard, right in Cain's head.

_She's just different, that's all. Just like me. I didn't spy on you. I just heard your thoughts. I never meant … I'm so sorry ..._

“Freak,” Cain whispered. He felt sick. “You're a fucking _freak_.”

 _Oh Cain. I'm so sorry_.

Charles sounded it. So genuinely, _fucking_ sorry. And he was staring at Cain, just staring at him and his eyes were really blue and Cain suddenly knew something was going to happen and he wanted to get away, only he couldn't move.

 _I'm so sorry_ Charles said again. _But I can't let you remember. I just can't. I hope you understand, Cain. I need to protect us_.

He couldn't say anything back. He couldn't think. He just stared, _feeling_ Charles in his mind, warm but unyielding. He wouldn't be stopped. He wouldn't be swayed. Kinda like Dad in that way.

 _I really did want it to be different_ Charles whispered and then everything went dark.

*

Raven had gone when Cain woke up the next morning.

Charles announced at breakfast that he'd sent her on ahead to get things ready for him in England.

“You two can stay in the house if you like,” he said, his voice weirdly flat. “I won't be needing it for a long time.”

Dad seemed pretty happy about that. Cain guessed he'd got something that he wanted. Dad always smiled like that when he had something that he wanted. It was funny, Cain had thought that Dad had wanted more than that … but whatever it was, it hadn't stuck. Maybe it hadn't been important … thought it was always a good idea to remember what Dad wanted so it was kind of … weird not to have remembered it really. Everything felt kind of weird.

He felt like he'd forgotten something even more important than that but it wouldn't come.

Charles left a few days later. They didn't really say goodbye. Cain supposed that made sense. Wasn't like they were really close enough to say goodbyes. Never would be. He’d never liked Charlie-boy after all.

He left not long after. He hated the house and being alone with Dad wasn't exactly fun. He joined the army – who else would have him? He was strong and they didn't care about anything else, except forcing him to obey rules – but he was good at that, when he had to be.

He put Charles and Raven out of his mind. If he didn't think of them, he didn't think there was anything important that had gotten lost. If he didn't think of them, he didn't get uncomfortable. If he didn't think of them or his Dad, it was kind of like everything was okay. And it was easy to forget. Easy to leave it all behind and just live.

Until one day, he was watching the TV and president was almost killed by a psycho and saved by a scaly blue bitch that could change her skin to whatever she wanted.

Everyone else watched and talked about how they'd either known or never known about this sort of shit. Cain watched and slowly, memories that had been suppressed unfolded in his mind. Everything back, revealed.

Charles had taken it all.

He’d torn it all out and paved it over, hidden it all away so Cain wouldn’t betray his secret. His sister’s secret.

Cain watched and swore that somehow, he'd make himself stronger still. Not just physically strong, He'd make himself so fucking strong he'd be unstoppable. 

Somehow, he'd make sure nobody could ever taken anything from him ever again.

And he’d never have to miss anything that was taken away.


End file.
